


Playing the Odds

by Daegaer



Series: Contracted [3]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Bodyguard, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-31 02:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: It's hard keeping yourself entertained on a long interstellar flight. Nagi finds a way.





	Playing the Odds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Weiss Kreuz vs Saiyuki "Last Dance" battle for the prompt: _Nagi/Omi, sci-fi AU. Space pirate and smuggler Nagi finds himself strangely compelled to help Omi, a lowly bodyguard who is secretly the illegitimate heir to the Takatori planetary system, make his way home and reclaim his birthright_ ; Follows on from [Honest Work](https://weissvsaiyuki.dreamwidth.org/88767.html)

"It's another beautiful day of interstellar travel in a tiny box," Schuldig said, draping himself across the one comfortable chair in the mess area. "It quite reminds me of how much I prefer to journey First Class. However do you keep _sane_ , Citizen Naoe?"

"Trust me, if I could have got you a pet carrier in time, I would have," Nagi said, ignoring the huffy expression that fixed itself firmly to Schuldig's features. "You're the one who wanted to come along with your Rent-a-Thug."

Omi glanced up and went back to his game of solitaire. It was annoying, trying to needle him, Nagi thought. The bastard just refused to rise to the bait. Fuck it, he had to do _something_ to pass the time, so –

"I could regale you with stories of the most _elegant_ young ladies I have, _ahem_ , entertained –"

"Fuck you. Keep out of my mind. Hey, you. Omi. Are you going to play a forty-third game of solitaire, or do you want to play poker?"

"You were keeping count?" Omi said, but in a way that managed not to be a challenge. He swept up the cards and shuffled them. "Let's start for small stakes."

"Can I play too?" Schuldig said eagerly.

"No!" Nagi and Omi chorused. They looked at each other warily and then grinned at the way Schuldig's ears had gone flat against his skull.

"Not only is he a fucking telepath, he's a cardsharp," Nagi said. " _Never_ play against him for anything worth more than one round of drinks."

"A cardsharp? Me?" Schuldig said, his ears still flat in offence. "Well, so are you, Citizen Naoe. That innocent juvenile human appearance is _such_ a sham."

"That's all right," Omi said, dealing the cards. "I'm a cardsharp myself." He smiled cheerfully at Nagi. "Still want to play?"

"Fuck, yes," Nagi said. "Let's see who's the better cheat."

They were, it was decided by both of them, fairly evenly matched. Schuldig spent most of the time sulking and proclaiming himself the better player, even without the use of telepathy or cheating, but eventually fell asleep mid-whine, which made the game far more enjoyable. It was enough fun – Nagi was glad his alien passenger wasn't awake to pick up _that_ thought – to up the stakes. By the time they finished playing, he'd got to the point of wagering an energy crystal, losing it to Omi, winning it back and narrowly avoiding losing it again through some careful, and then increasingly desperate cheating. It was diverting enough to win Omi a shot of the decent spirits Nagi kept hidden away for his own consumption.

"You're a lot better at that than you look," he said.

"The baby-face helps," Omi grinned. "Oh, go on, I don't mind. I know I don't look like anyone's first choice for a bodyguard."

"I just assumed you didn't charge much," Nagi shrugged. "He's notoriously cheap." He poured them both another shot on a whim. "You're right about having a baby-face being an advantage; no one ever thinks I'm a smuggler."

"Well, I certainly don't bear it against you, Citizen Naoe," Omi said.

"Oh no – he just calls me that to piss me off – call me Nagi. Anyway, thanks for your vote of confidence, Citizen Bodyguard."

"I'm not actually a Citizen," Omi said. "Can't prove my parentage, was a ward of state, you know the drill."

"Yeah," Nagi said. "I know what you mean – that's why your boss likes to needle at me with the fucking title. So, as one identity-less bastard to another, cheers, and may you find better employers in the future." He tossed his drink back. "Having your own ship's better than having a Citizen number, though, let me tell you."

Omi nodded, looking ruminatively into his glass. "I can see that. Things are still easier if you have actual legal rights, though. You're not a bad guy, for a smuggler. I'd get you your citizenship, if I could, to go along with the ship."

"Hey, great," Nagi said. "How about Letters of Marque while you're at it? That'd be more useful."

"Sure," Omi said. "Or you could be the Admiral of my Fleet."

"I like you, you think big. But you'd be the General of the Marines in _my_ fleet."

Omi laughed, and Nagi joined in, which surprised him. _Fuck it, Naoe_ , he thought. _Is he flirting?_ Then, _Fuck, am I?_ Whatever the hell they were doing, it wasn't unpleasant, so he sat there, and played another hand, for deliberately small stakes. He didn't pour another drink, though. No point in tempting fate.

The poker game changed things somehow; Omi smiled more and spoke more and it was difficult not to answer. Even Schuldig seemed less objectionable – which was suspicious – but things were set to rights there by ostentatiously setting his food out in a bowl on the floor until he finally lost his temper and dropped the irritating urbane act, letting rip with a tirade of space-dock gutter filth about racist human bastards and their sexual preferences that Nagi had to admit was quite impressive. After Schuldig had swept out to recover his equilibrium in the tiny passenger quarters, Omi looked ruefully at the food trickling down the bulkhead, and the smashed bowl.

"Maybe you should go after him. I'll clean that up for you. "

"Nah, I pushed him into it."

 _What the fuck?_ Nagi thought, as he swept up shards of pottery. Who the hell willingly refused an offer to do scutwork? It had to be Schuldig at him again. He looked over his shoulder at Omi, whose pleasant face seemed more closed off than usual.

"Do you think I was being a bit –" Nagi paused. "- rude to him?"

"The mashed up sardines were probably a step too far," Omi said mildly. "That tomato sauce is hard to clean out of crevices."

"Yeah," Nagi said, looking in distaste at the area he'd been cleaning. It still smelled a bit fishy. He sighed. He felt odd, like he'd let himself down somehow. Then he frowned, thinking of the instant, unerring way Omi had made the difficult shot in the warehouse, and the fact that Schuldig's species weren't the only damn telepaths in the galaxy.

"Omi," he said casually, "you're not one of those travelling warrior magic-power ascetic guys, are you?"

"Who me? No way," Omi said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Good, I hate those sanctimonious prigs."

"Are you all right?"

Nagi glared at him. "I think I feel bad for hurting Schuldig's feelings. That's ridiculous, we've been hurting each other's feelings for years!"

"Then in some way you and he are actually friends, and he'll probably get over it," Omi said. "And you can try to do better in future." He suddenly started to laugh. "You could leave a saucer of milk outside his room as a peace offering."

Nagi stared at him, then threw the sardine-covered rag at him. "You bastard! You had me feeling bad about him!"

"Me? Why? He's an insufferable prick!"

"You really had me going," Nagi said, and began to laugh as well. He retrieved the fishy rag and shook it threateningly in Omi's face. "I should rub this off on you in revenge."

Omi jumped up, grinning, "Yeah? You can try, Citizen Naoe."

"You just watch me, Citizen Omi –"

There was a brief tussle for the rag, which Nagi deliberately lost. He knew when to up the ante, and he didn't think Omi was going to smear fish guts across his face. He was right. Omi dropped the rag on the table and ran a sadly fishy hand through Nagi's hair instead.

"I was wondering, my dear Citizen Naoe," he said in a passable imitation of a feline hiss, "now that we're alone –"

"Fuck, _yes_ ," Nagi said, and kissed him hard. "My cabin's this way," he said when they stopped for breath.

The rest of the voyage was _much_ more entertaining.


End file.
